


well you look like yourself (but you're somebody else)

by amplifer



Category: Motherland: Fort Salem (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, But just a little, F/F, but not what you are thinking, this relationship just fascinates me for some reason, well maybe a little of why you are thinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-16 06:08:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29077623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amplifer/pseuds/amplifer
Summary: “Can we talk?”You look her up and down, she looks weaker in a way, almost sullen. Her eyes have somehow dimmed to a cooler blue, not like the bright one it once was. She seems to hold herself almost haphazardly, off kilter. But, there is this pull in your gut as you can still smell the wildflower scent of her that has been there ever since you were child. Her smile, while weak, is still the same one she would give you when she picked you up after school. Her hair, while thin, held the same bounce that made her easily recognizable in a crowd at the grocery store.She still looked like your mama.orthe relationship between Raelle and Willa over the years.
Relationships: Abigail Bellweather & Raelle Collar & Tally Craven, Raelle Collar & Willa Collar, Raelle Collar/Scylla Ramshorn
Comments: 4
Kudos: 47





	well you look like yourself (but you're somebody else)

**Author's Note:**

> hey lol. it has been awhile. i have decided to post another work on to one of the relationships I am most looking forward to being explore in the upcoming season. in a good or bad way. all of the rights got the the motherland creators. thank you and enjoy.

_**Ten** _

Every Sunday evening, your mama, dad, and you would go to the hill behind your house and you would watch the sunset. You thought it was boring, not the activity itself because you loved hanging out with your parents more than life itself, but the color of the sunset was boring to you. It was always the same, yellow and orange mixed together, it never changed. It was like classical music to you, just a bunch of instruments coming together to make the same music over and over again. But your mama loved it, the sunset and _classical music_. 

You brought this up to your mama as you were watching the sunset over the hill one Spring evening. You remember it was Spring because your dad had brought home a freshly bloomed tulip for your mama that afternoon. You remember the smile on her face when he gave it to her, warm and bright like a _sunset_. When you complained about the sunset, your mama just rolled her eyes and pulled you up in her lap with an exasperated sigh. 

“That’s because you are not seeing all the colors.” 

“Yes I am, there are two!” 

“Rae-” 

“Two colors, mama! And not even the best ones!” 

“So imagine the best ones.” 

You sigh, your mama could be so difficult sometimes. 

“How?!” 

She pulls you closer with a fond smile upon her face and whispers.

“Close your eyes.” 

You close your eyes with hesitancy. 

“Now imagine your favorite color.” 

You picture light blue, not like the sky, but your mama’s eyes. You hear your mama murmur something under her breath either to your father or to herself. Then you hear a cleared throat. Your dad speaks. 

“Open your eyes, Rae.” 

You open them to the shocking color of light blue, _just like your mama’s eyes_ , covering the sky even the sun. You gasp in shock and revel in the amazing color before you. Your mama squeezes you tighter to her. 

“Your mind is more powerful than you believe, girl. Always remember that.” 

Just like that Sunday evening sunsets become the thing you look forward to the most, but you still hate classical music. 

**_Twenty-seven_ **

The string quartet fills up the room with loud, shrieking music that pierces your ears. The wood of the creaky bar stabs your back as you lean against it, but you don’t move, you smile easily as you look onward to the people dancing in the middle of the room. It’s an old witches dance you remember learning in grade school. 

You sigh and tap your hand to the drinking you are holding, the gold band on your left finger making a distinct ' _clink’_ sound when hitting the glass. You do this a couple times before taking a sip of the liquid that burns your throat before going down. 

You hear footsteps coming up from your right side, you look out the corner of your eye to see Abigail, with her own drink in hand, coming up to stop right at your side. You watch as she surveys the area around her with a light amusement that you haven’t seen from her in quite awhile. You decide you like it. You stand there for a couple of moments, before she speaks. 

“This clan is sure putting on a show, huh?” 

The Sialilitura clan, the people that your unit has been staying with for the past three weeks. _Three long-ass weeks_ . The agreement between the alliance was for the Army to get new information on work in water and how to use it correctly. In exchange, the Sialilitura clan gets to use the Military’s most powerful unit along with a few other high powered officers for a couple of months to fend off attacks from other _tuvoekoi_ clans nearby. 

You were not made aware this trip was for two _months_ before agreeing to go on it. You scoff out a laugh at Abigail’s sentence. 

“Not so much the clan, rather one person.” 

You nod your head to Tally, who is laughing while a man takes her down in a dip as the fast song ends. Tally flourishes under the attention, laughing and dancing as the new song starts up. Abigail snorts in her drink. 

“How is it possible that she gets more coordinated as she gets more drunk?” 

You chuckle and shake your head as Abigail giggles alongside you. It’s a good moment. 

“I don’t know.” 

You fall into a comfortable silence as you take the fast-paced scene before you. You can still feel eyes burning into the left side of you, but you refuse to look over there, you _can’t_. 

“How are you? Missing your wife?” 

You sigh and look over to her. 

Of course you miss Scylla; you miss her laugh, her smile, waking up next to her, her hand in yours when you go on long walks through the neighborhood that you live in. With the house that you share together. Together as in a married couple. Together as in this life and the next. Scylla is your _wife_ . And she would have loved this. You know this because you had to convince her not to come. For her own wellbeing. Well, _their_ wellbeing. 

“Of course, I do.” Abigail hums. Seems like she does too.

“What has she said about you being gone so long, with the ba-” 

You cut her off. 

“Abigail, not here.” 

She looks at you with shock, normally you would love to talk about this, you love it more than anything. You could talk about it for hours, but not here, not with _her._ Abigail finally looks behind you and sees who has been burning a hole through your left side the whole night. Her eyes clear with realization and she scoffs. 

“You haven’t told her?” 

“I haven’t talked to her since my wedding.” 

“That’s almost three years ago, Raelle.” 

You sigh and look away, you rub your hand over your chin, feeling the cool metal of your ring helps calm you until the anger in your gut is nothing more than a mere butterfly fluttering around in there. 

“Look, I know you two have had a complicated history-” 

“Complicated is an understatement.” 

Abigail’s exasperated look cuts you off. 

“But, she’s still your mom, Shitbird. I personally know my mom would be thrilled to know that I have decided to continue this fine ass legacy.” 

She finishes the sentence with a smirk, you chuckle as you see her younger self poking out of that sentence. 

“You’d have to settle down first.” 

“Ah, you only know that there was only one person I could have settled down for.” 

You wince as she takes a sip of her whiskey. Adil, it’s been almost two years since you’ve lost him. Just recently, you’ve seen Abigail take the form of the girl you once knew, your sister. Before then, she had been a shell of the person, hollow inside and out. You wanted to do something about it, but Scylla told you to wait. 

You remember crying to her on the end of your bed, she sat there clutching your arm, pressing reassuring kisses to your shoulder. You remember her saying, 

“Nothing passes in a day, Rae. You have to let her grieve in her own way, she needs you to be there for her, not change her.” 

You look up at Abigail and instead of seeing tears like you are expecting to, you see peace in her eyes with a lingering sadness that is always going to be there it seems. But you’ll deal with it. For Abigail. 

“You never know.” 

You shrug and leave it at that. Abigail doesn’t say anymore, you don’t press her to. It isn't until she looks to your left that her eyes widen in panic. 

“Red Alert! Red Alert!” 

“What?” 

“Red Alert!” 

“What’s red alert?” 

“Just look to your left!” 

You look to your left in exasperation that turns into panic that turns into anger. You grit your jaw as you see _her_ approach you hesitantly. As soon as she gets close enough she nods to Abigail with a tight smile, which she returns. Abigail really never liked Willa, the feeling was definitely mutual though. 

“Abigail.” 

“Ms. Collar.” 

She turns to you with a more genuine smile that you can’t bring yourself to return, only scowling at her. She doesn’t back down though, she taught you that scowl, its _hers._

“Can we talk?” 

You look her up and down, she looks weaker in a way, almost sullen. Her eyes have somehow dimmed to a cooler blue, not like the bright one it once was. She seems to hold herself almost haphazardly, off kilter. But, there is this pull in your gut as you can still smell the wildflower scent of her that has been there ever since you were child. Her smile, while weak, is still the same one she would give you when she picked you up after school. Her hair, while thin, held the same bounce that made her easily recognizable in a crowd at the grocery store. 

She still looked like your mama. 

You nod your head. 

_**Thirteen** _

“I am your _mother_ , Raelle!” 

Hot, bright anger burns through you, throbbing through your bones up to your eyes, it’s so bright that blinds your vision. You can’t think because your brain is on fire lit by rage. You don’t process the words until they are already out of your mouth. 

“Well, I wish you weren’t!” 

The tension in the room evaporates like steam from a hot kettle. You look at your mama in shock, you’ve never said anything like that to your mama before. You never got this angry at your mama before. But she doesn’t understand and when you try to make her, she just doesn’t **listen**. You need her to. 

You can see her bright blue eyes dim and close off to stone cold. You can feel your heart freeze and crack by her piercing stare. She becomes stoic but you can see a hint of sadness in her stare. 

“Go to your room.” 

Her voice is firm and makes no room for any protests. 

You turn back to your room like a cowardly dog with its tail tucked between its legs. You shut the door quietly and flop onto your mattress. 

Why? 

Why did you say **that**? 

You could’ve said anything, but that. 

You love your mom and she is the one person who **truly** gets you, no questions asked. She is your **person**. Your best friend. 

Tears form begin to pool in your eyes as you picture your mama’s stone cold stare and all you can do is turn over and scream into your pillow. 

-

You stay in your room for the rest of the day. You don’t come out for dinner, they don’t call you out. It’s only when you are getting ready for bed that there is a small knock at the door. 

“Come in.” 

Your mama pokes her head through the small crack in the door. You tense your jaw and sit down on the side of your bed. Your mama comes further into the room, you can’t read the expression on her face. She motions to sit across from you at the desk beside your bed. 

You nod your head. She sits down with a low placed sigh, tapping her hands on her knees. It’s a while before she speaks.

“Did I ever tell you the time I punched a kid?” 

You look up at her in shock. By the stories from both your father and mother, your mom was always a straight-A student, with great marks and a great future. It was hard to keep up with the legacy your mom had made for you. 

She chuckles, clearly recalling the memory. 

“Yeah. He was just an annoying little shit,” You chuckle at your mama’s use of profanity. 

“Kept pulling at my pigtails, throwing dirt on my new shoes, just always getting on my nerves.” 

She pauses, smiling gently at you. 

“So, one day I had decided that enough was enough and that same day, he threw dirt on my new dress and I just turned around and punched him the living shit out of him.” 

You have a full belly laugh for that one, she joins in, her eyes bright like the sunset sky. 

“I mean, he saw stars!” 

You laugh for a good minute. She always knew your sense of humor, could make you cry from laughter in under just a minute with just a few words. 

After the laughter, you both regard each other. You clear your throat and speak up. 

“I’m sorry.” 

She nods with a small smile. 

“I know. I could see that on your face the minute I pulled you out of that office.” 

You shake your head, that’s not what you meant. 

“No. I’m not sorry for punching him, he was being a dick-”

“Raelle.” 

“I’m sorry, but he was.” 

She lets out an exasperated sigh, but signs for you to continue.

“I’m sorry for wishing that you weren’t my mother. I didn’t mean it. I swear, mama, I-” 

You start to ramble, but your mama puts up her hands to stop you, so you click your jaw shut. 

“Me and you, Rae. We are a lot alike, especially in anger, we say things we don’t mean, we **do** things that we don’t mean. It’s like that filter, although small, that we carry with us just shrivels right up. And whoever is on the other side of our anger, well, we let them have it. No matter who they are or how much they mean to us.” 

In this moment, you realize how much your mother really gets you. She comes closer to you to place her hands on top of yours and squeeze. 

“All we can do is try to show them how much they mean to us and do everything in our power to not let that anger get the best of us, even on our worst days.” 

You feel tears pool to your eyes as you try and force out a small smile. She opens her arms out to you and you fall against them, gripping her tightly. 

You embrace the scent of wildflowers all around you. 

**_Eighteen_ **

_Wildflowers_

You smell the familiar scent as you walk into the old wooden house, the scent so easy recognizable to you, you’ve been smelling it since the day you were born. 

Scylla walks ahead of you, hesitancy in her form, with Anacostia beside her, constantly looking over to her. You can feel your unit’s gaze burning holes through your back, but you don’t look back. 

Suddenly, Scylla turns around, her expression unreadable to you. You two haven’t talked since your explosive reunion two weeks ago when Anacostia revealed that Scylla wasn’t actually rotting in a prison in the Caribbean. That actually she was in a Spree cell about twenty minutes from Fort Salem. You demanded to see her at once. 

Anacostia brought you to a coffee shop that she and Scylla had been meeting at for a couple weeks. It must have been quite a shock for Scylla to see her ‘dead’ ex-girlfriend sitting in a chair at a minuscule coffee shop of all places. It was a shock for you too, to get over the guilt-crushing weight on your heart of your last words to her before she was subsequently shipped off to die. At least she didn’t though. 

You’re still trying to get over that guilt-crushing weight, it comes over you every time Scylla so much as looks at you. She probably thinks you hate her, but it’s exactly the _opposite_. 

After the shock wore off, Scylla’s first words were exactly what you were expecting, not an ‘ _I love you_ ’ or ‘ _I miss you_ ’, not even an ‘ _I hate you_ ’. They were- 

“Raelle, your mother’s alive.” 

You didn’t believe her at first. You got angry quickly and that little filter you had shriveled up. The anger, guilt, sadness you had boiling over inside you just came spilling out as well did insults. At her, _Scylla_ , the person you care about the most in the world. The person that was trying to right her mistakes and trying to start anew. 

Anacostia told you after she broke you too apart and sent Scylla home, because as Scylla didn’t just sit by and allow you to hurl insult and after insult to her. You got as much as you gave. She told you that Scylla was right, your mama was alive in the same Spree cell as Scylla. Anacostia told you how Scylla has been working tirelessly to bring you back home, that she still ‘felt’ you in the bond that you two shared. Anacostia said that Scylla was after her for weeks to set up at a meeting with you to tell you about your mama. And when Anacostia asked her why she wanted to tell you so urgently, Scylla’s only response was, 

“She would do it for me.” 

Scylla was right. And looking at her now, not being unable to read her like you used to, hurts more than dying. _You know this as a fact._

She gets closer, just close enough that the scent of wildflowers is drowned out by book pages and fresh salt air. It is almost as overwhelming as the wildflowers, but definitely more welcomed. Her voice is a murmur, made for only you to hear. 

“Are you sure you wanna see her? You don’t have to.” 

You meet her eyes, like blue color stands bright like night stars. You clench your jaw and look away. You never made peace with your mother’s death, you just learned to live with it. From the gruesome details you got from the death report, there was no way that she could have been alive. But, a piece of you, the girl who was ten and watching the sunset turn blue, had hoped. Always hoped. 

Now that hope has turned into _something_ that is behind a door only a few feet away from you. So, why aren’t you moving? You can’t seem to figure that out. 

A warm hand on your bicep breaks you out of your thoughts, you look back to Scylla, who moves to take her hand back, but you place your hand on top of hers. The skin on skin contact quells your anxieties back down to a normal level. And somehow drowns out the loud thoughts circling around you. 

“You don’t owe her anything.” 

You know she’s right. Deep down you do, but that ten year old girl is growing stronger and stronger, calling out to her mother. Telling her that she misses her laughter, her warmth, her _everything_.

“Raelle.” 

You recognize that voice anywhere. Stern, but also soft. You follow your eyes to the sound, your eyes meet ones that are still bright like a _sunset_ , but they have dimmed to a darker sunset. You never knew a sunset could be dark. 

You see _her_ . Your _mother_. 

_Shit_. 

**_Twenty-seven_ **

Well, _shit_. 

You can feel her eyes on you as you both take a seat on the wooden steps outside of the _emalicesotu_ room. You set your elbows on your knees and take a big swing of your drink and wince as the warm liquid burns your throat going down. You sit there for what seems forever, both of you not knowing what to say. You don’t know if you wanna say anything. 

The months are turning cooler, a few days ago, some of the native Sialilituras saw some frozen _raaliekce_ by the water’s edge. Tally squealed with joy when she heard the news, you were also happy when you heard about it. You’re not so happy now as you burrow yourself deeper in your jacket. 

The silence is broken when Willa puts her hands together, rubbing them to get some kind of warmth and then speaking. 

“The _oitualiemtura_ , Andromeda, says she is very impressed with you and how you are handling things down at the South end.” 

You hum. 

When you were little, you used to do anything to get Willa’s praise, something she did not give out easily. When you got it, you would get this overwhelming feeling of happiness and love towards her. Now, you don’t really feel that. All that you really feel is empty towards her. 

And lonely, you _really_ miss Scylla. 

“Tomorrow, Sergeant Maurbarry wants you to go to the-” 

“The forest- _piekemtu_ with Joannes, I know she already told me.” 

She looks over to you and for a minute, she just stares. Until she chuckles. 

She chuckles like you had just told a funny joke, but nothing about this situation is funny, not even a little. Before you can ask, she speaks up, still humor and amusement is in her tone. 

“I forgot, you’re an adult now, girl.” 

You don’t really know what to say to that. You don’t know how that is funny, but you aren’t going to ask. You just take another drink and let the silence stretch out into the cold night air. Willa clears her throat. 

“How’s Scylla?” 

The breach of unspoken territory.

  
  


Scylla has always been a sore subject between you both. You’ll never forgive what Willa has done to her. Willa saw the loss of Scylla’s parents as a weak point and used to manipulate Scylla into doing whatever she wanted, mostly dirty work, for the ‘ _cause_ ’. 

After the defeat of the Camarilla, the deal, between the Spree and the Military, that was made at the start of the war; for Inscription day to be demolished, was followed through. After this, every Spree cell disbanded, leaving Willa to come crawling back to the military expecting Scylla to follow her. Instead of going back with Willa, Scylla joined Izadora on multiple non-exclusive research trips for Witch plagues. 

Willa did not like this. You remember walking in on them in the middle of their stand-off. Cold stares were brought on by both parties directed at the other. You remember Willa shouting at her. 

“So, that’s it?! You’re just done like a coward?!” 

You remember Scylla, not shouting, but her voice had been firm and tone was closed off when talking to Willa. 

“I’ve given so much to this war, Willa. We’ve won, I don’t care what way that is. I’m done.” 

You haven’t seen them hold a conversation since. Scylla doesn’t talk about her and you don’t ask. 

You clear your throat, watching your breath fog in the cool air. 

“She’s good.” 

Should you tell her? 

She’s your **mother**. Should you? 

_Fuck_ it. 

“She’s pregnant.” 

A beat. 

You give it another moment, but you turn to look over at her to find her just staring forward. She, careful not to touch you, takes the drink out of your hands and downs it in one go, no wince or anything. 

Another moment passes. 

“I’m guessing you’re the baby momma.” 

You chuckle, the fondness for your unborn child seeping through the cracks of your mask that you keep up when you are around Willa. 

“Yeah, I’m the baby momma.” 

You are going to have a _kid_ . With Scylla, your _wife_. An entire little person to look after, that’s going to have your last name, your genes. Your heart overflows with adoration for this little person that you haven’t even met yet. 

“How far along is she?” 

  
  


“Two months.” 

You remember the exact day too, you were just getting home from weekly drinks with Byron and you saw Scylla, head in her hands, sitting on the couch. When the door closed, she looked up and you could see tear tracks down her face. Of course, you’d crack a stupid joke though.

“What? Are you leaving me?” 

She let out an exasperated chuckle and patted for you to come sit next to her. She pulled out a little stick with two pink lines down the middle, you looked at her in confusion until you read what was on the stick. 

**Pregnant**

You’d let out a breathless sob. Of course, you both wanted kids, you talked about it when you first started dating. You remember Scylla saying, 

“When the world’s a better place, Raelle. A better world is what I want to raise them in.” 

You had waited awhile after you'd gotten married to do the ritual. Just to get used to married life, a relish in just being _together_ , just the two of you. Once, you did it, you just waited and hoped for the best. 

You remember crying together on the couch that night, just gripping each other tight and whispering sweet nothings into each other's ears. Your child is going to grow up in a better place, a better world. 

Willa lets out a breath before turning over to you and you can see tears pooling in her eyes. She swipes at her eyes before you can see any tears go down her cheeks. You don’t know how to feel, but you’re glad she knows. You don’t know if she deserves it, but for your sake, you’re glad she knows. You smile, gently and say, 

“You wanna see a picture?” 

_**Seventeen** _

You stare at the picture on the wall. 

It’s one of those stupid family portait pictures that your mama made you and your dad get dressed up for. Your dad and you both wore freshly pressed slacks that you kept adjusting, paired with a flannel button up that your mama had to keep rolling the sleeves down because you kept rolling them up. 

“It’s too big!” 

“I don’t care, Raelle. For once, you are going to look nice!” 

With that she licked her thumb to rub off a piece of chocolate on your face, you tried to swat her hand away, but she didn’t budge. 

Your mama wore a pretty bright sundress that complimented her eyes. You remember after that your dad let you drive the old pickup to the ice cream shop down the street from the portrait place. 

It was a good day. 

Your mama got deployed a week after that photo was taken.

Now, she’s _gone_. She’s not coming back. 

Your dad hasn’t talked since you got the news, which makes it a week. Your mama has been gone a week and you have never felt so _lost_. You don’t know what to do, how to live without her. 

You are numb to every feeling. Except for anger, you can feel that. It courses throughout your veins, it’s what keeps you alive. Anger at your mom for not coming back. Anger at the military for sending her to her death and that they are coming for you next. Just _anger_ at this damn portrait. 

You pluck it from the wall and smash it to the ground, the frame breaks and free the picture from inside it. It lands upright, taunting you. You’ve had enough, you stuff it in your back pocket and walk out the back door. 

Anger is throbbing through you with every step. 

**_Eighteen_ **

Rage is the only feeling you can seem to find when you look at her. 

The room is quiet as you take each other in, you can feel your mouth open in the shock of it all. That’s your mother right in front of you, someone who left a gaping whole in your chest, someone who was supposed to never leave you, never lie to you. You can’t feel anything but rage, you try to search for something different, but nothing comes up. 

She makes a move closer to you. Scylla makes a move in front of you, blocking her from you. Your mother looks from you to Scylla, her eyes narrowing and becoming somewhat colder. 

“Move, Scylla.” 

Scylla just continues to stare at her, not moving an inch. Your mother speaks once again, more louder and firmer this time. 

“You’ve kept me from her long enough, haven’t you? Move.” 

What the _hell_ does that mean? You don’t know, but you save that sentence to be unpacked for later. Now, you step closer to Scylla, grabbing her wrist and tugging her closer towards you. The warmth of her shoulder against yours gives you the strength of speaking without a noticeable quiver. 

“Scylla, it’s okay.” 

You make sure to make eye contact with her, to let her know that you’re here, you’re _okay_ . Well, okay as you can be with your presumed _dead_ mother just a few feet away from you. You nod to Abigail and Tally, who are both looking at you with concern etched into their faces. 

You take one step towards your mother, the scent of wildflowers now more powerful than ever. 

It makes you wanna _puke_. 

-

You watch the tea swirl around in your cup. It’s _lavender_ your mother said, but it tastes like shit. 

What the _fuck_. 

You don’t know why you’re thinking about tea right now while your mother is sitting right in front of you. And she won’t stop staring at you, but you _can’t_ look at her. Instead, you look out at the backyard, it’s unkempt, leaves everywhere and just dull. You spot a squirrel scampering on a tree branch, you wish that was you. 

You hear your mother clear her throat, but you just lean back in your chair, still looking at the branches blowing in the Autumn breeze. 

“You look grown up.” 

You chuckle, but nothing about this is funny. Well, maybe a little to you. Or maybe that’s just what numbness does to you, makes you go crazy just wanting to feel something. 

“Yeah, well death certainly makes you grow up.” 

You finally meet her eyes for the first time. There’s not light in them, not anymore, just cold blueness, it’s definitely _not_ your favorite color. 

“Raelle.” The calmness in her tone makes you snap. You stand up and your chair scrapes across the concrete. 

“What?!” 

Your reaction shocks her, you can see it, but what does she expect? You to give her a big _fucking_ hug? 

“I’m just trying to have a civil conversation-” 

“You’re lucky I’m even having a conversation with you at all.” 

You can see hurt on her face. Good. She should hurt. She should know what she did to you, she should feel it too. 

“I did what I had to.” 

“Seriously?! You think that should make me feel better?! Should I be thanking you right now? Okay, well _thank you_ for leaving me! _Thank you_ , mom, _seriously thank you_ for the hurt, the numbness, the anger, thank you! Thank you because right now- _right now_ \- it feels like my _heart_ ,” Your voice breaks and you can feel eyes on you from across the room but you can only focus on your mother’s eyes, that just holds emptiness in them, you can’t see anything else. 

You take a deep breath and count. 

_1, 2, 3._

“It feels like my heart has been pulled out of my chest and tossed on the ground, and then just _stomped_ on. But you, mom, you are doing the stomping and you are not just stomping on it, you are _jumping_ on it.” 

When you finish, you finally feel the warmness of the tears streaming down your cheeks. You look down to your mom, who has now dropped the stoic expression and has tears forming in her eyes. But, they don’t drop, you notice that. Maybe that’s what breaks your heart entirely, that she won’t even drop her mask for her own _daughter_. 

“Collar.” Anacostia’s hard and firm voice breaks the tension, it makes you stand up a little straighter. 

“It’s time to head back.” 

You drop your head, clearing your throat. You don’t want to spend more time here, in the same space with _her_ , than you have to. 

“Yes ma’am.” You turn to walk out, but you finally hear her voice, your _mother’s_ voice. 

“Raelle.” She pauses, “I’m sorry.” 

It makes you stop in your tracks, but you don’t turn around. You feel a sense of _deja vu_ back when Scylla was the one getting yelled at, being left for dead. You can feel the coldness of the dungeon on your neck, still smell the mildew. But this isn’t the same, your mother isn’t screaming and crying for you to believe her, she isn’t telling you that she loves you, that she would _choose_ you. Instead, she just sits there, with her mask up. 

You pull yours up too and keep walking. 

**_Twenty-four_ **

You pace back and forth in the stuffy room, it’s so stifling that you had to take your dress jacket off just to breathe for a couple of minutes. You’re a little bit worried considering you are getting married in about thirty minutes. 

_Oh god_. 

You are getting married in thirty minutes. 

Another wave of panic washes over you, but before you can start walking it out, the door opens. Your dad sticks his head out behind the door and chuckles at the state of your panic. You roll your eyes as he comes further in. 

“Come on, kid, you at least know how to put on a jacket. You’ve done it a million times before.” He says amusedly as he crosses the room to grab the dress jacket hanging off the back of the chair. You straighten up as he comes closer to you. 

“I’m guessing Abigail sent you.” Your dad hums affirmatively. 

“She went to see how your bride was doing. You weren’t kidding when you said that Abigail was going to be the bridezilla of this wedding.” 

You scoff out a laugh at that. It’s silent for a minute, just your dad fixing your collar. 

“How is she?” Your dad meets your eyes. 

“Scylla?” You nod. 

“She’s not as nervous as you are,” He lets out a chuckle as you glare at him, “but I’m guessing that just comes from years of practice.” 

Of course it is, it took you years to read Scylla. The way her lips curled up just in the corners of her mouth when she was amused; her eyes gleamed like a bright sunset when she genuinely was happy; her nose wrinkled up when she was thinking too hard; her eyebrows always pinched together when she was sad or the rare times when she was _drunk_. You always feel proud, to be one of the only people to read Scylla the way you do. But, today, you just hope that she is as happy as you are. 

Your dad, as if sensing your inner turmoil, claps you on the shoulder. “She’s happy, Rae.” 

“You think so?” 

  
  


“I could sense it when I walked in. The smile on her face, god, Rae-” He cuts himself off and just stares at you for a second, tears pooling in his eyes. “You have no idea what’s coming.” 

He collects himself, wiping the imaginary lint off of your shoulder. You can sense the air of tension in the room. A missing person. You haven’t talked about her in years with your dad. You don’t even know if he still speaks with her, you don’t ask. You don’t want to know what the answer is. 

“I miss _her_ .” The confession just slips out of your mouth, unwanted and unwarranted. Your dad stills, looking you straight in the eye, shocked that you even mentioned her. You’re not going to say more, you aren’t going to ruin your _fucking_ wedding day with thoughts of her. 

“Yeah, me too, kid.” He pulls you into a hug, gripping you tightly, not caring if he creases your uniform. You lean into his warmth, seeking out the scent of cedarwood and tobacco. It calms you, like the scent of wildflowers used to. 

“Me too.” He whispers again, you pretend you don’t hear his voice crack. 

-

The cold feeling of the band around your left ring finger is unusual, but not unwelcome. You decide you like it as you move it around with your left thumb. You feel warmth on your right side as Scylla, _your wife_ , leans into you. You wrap your arm around her shoulder and place a kiss on the side of her head, your heart bursting with an overwhelming sense of joy that incompasses everything in you and around you with light. 

Scylla looks up at you and smiles, you smile back and wonder if this is real or not. You both turn back to the speaker, Tally, as she gives the recount of your relationship in her eyes. 

“I mean-Raelle is a mess all the time, with everything, but I guess with Scylla, she is a little less messy.” 

You feel Scylla chuckle as you shout, “Thank you, Tal!” Tally turns around to blow kisses at you both. 

The room fills with laughter and applause as Tally sits down, her speech done. You chuckle as you look at the guests, but something catches your eye. More like _someone_. 

_She_ stands there by the big white curtains, in a floral print dress like the one you remember from when you were a kid. _She_ stands there with a small _fucking_ smile on her face. _She_ just stands there, just _looking_. 

You clear your throat and look down at the tablecloth, closing your eyes, focusing on Scylla, who is still pressed warm into your side. You count as you breath in the scent of fresh salt air and book pages.

_1, 2, 3_

You open your eyes and look back up to see the same ice cold blue eyes still staring at you from across the room. You wait a moment before getting up, you grab Scylla’s arm and she stares at you, confused. 

“I’ll be right back.” Scylla follows your gaze, finally landing on _her_. 

You can see a variety of emotions on Scylla’s face. First, anger, then confusion, then finally, understanding. Like she understands why _she_ is here. You don’t though, that’s what you are trying to figure out. 

Scylla nods and places a chaste kiss on your lips. The warmth from it buries deep in your gut, killing any anxiety you had fluttering around in there. You take a deep breath before walking over to where _she_ is standing. You know you are close enough when you smell the familiar scent of wildflowers. 

You walk past _her_ , stepping out of the tent onto the sand below. It’s low tide, so you go down to stand by the water, coming close enough to smell the ocean, but not enough for it to dampen your slacks. 

You hear footsteps behind you, smelling the wildflower mixed in with salt air. It makes you wanna _vomit_. 

You clear your throat, “How did you know?” 

_She_ takes a minute to respond, probably shocked from the fact that you are even talking to _her_ , but when _she_ does speak, _her_ voice is hoarse like _she_ hasn’t spoken in days. 

“You know, you two have been the talk of the town ever since the news of your union broke.” _She_ pauses, “It wasn’t hard to pry some information out of people.” 

You chuckle hollowly. _The nerve of this woman_. 

You place your hands into your pockets and turn around to face _her_ , finally meeting _her_ eyes, that aren’t bright anymore. In fact, they hold nothing but brokenness, the ten year old girl inside of you screams out, wanting to comfort _her_ . But, you don’t because you are _so fucking tired_ of this woman. 

“What did you think was going to happen?” Your voice is strange to your ears, it’s cold and firm. 

_She_ doesn’t respond, so you press, “That I was going to welcome you with open arms. After everything you’ve done to me? To my _wife_?” 

_She_ still doesn’t respond, but you can see cracks in her mask. You wonder if she can see cracks in yours too. But _she_ isn’t even looking. 

“You’re unbelievable.” You murmur, fixing to go back inside, finished with the conversation.

_Her_ voice stops you, 

“I’m proud of you.” 

Your breath catches and you stop, but you don’t turn around, you _can’t_. 

_She_ continues, “I don’t think I have told you how proud I am of you. About the woman you’ve become. I am so proud of you, _Rae_ .” _Her_ voice cracks, a tear drops out of your eyes and you race to brush it away. 

You take a minute and turn back to _her_ , “The last time we talked,” You pause and clear your throat, “nothing has changed.” 

With that and a lingering gasp from _her_ , you walk back into the tent. 

**_Twenty-eight_ **

Ana is her name.

Ana Hera Ramshorn-Collar is her full name and she’s _perfect_. 

You can’t stop staring at her. She has ten toes and fingers, you made sure, you’ve counted at least eight times. She has hair as dark as Scylla’s and eyes that shine as bright as the sunset. You hope that they stay that way. 

You have a _kid_ . A _real_ kid with a heart and lungs, you could tell by the way she wailed when you first laid your eyes on her. Boy, she had lungs. She’s _beautiful_ just like her mom. You look to Scylla, who is sleeping peacefully, and you walk over to sit by the bed, cradling Ana carefully. 

Ana begins to stir, her eyes opening and your heart melts because those are your _eyes_. You can’t help the wide smile that spreads across your face. A knock on the door brings your attention away from Ana. 

“Come in.” Abigail and Tally peek their heads through the door, both are grinning. The sight makes tears well up into your eyes. You motion for them to come in, standing up as well and walking towards them as to give Scylla the well-deserved rest she needs. 

You cradle Ana close to your chest as you bring her to meet Abigail and Tally, your _sisters_ and her _aunts_. 

“Rae, she’s so beautiful.” Tally coos as Abigail tries to stop the tears from pooling over in her eyes. 

“ _Yeah_ ,” Your voice cracks, “yeah she is.” 

You look back up at Abigail and Tally. Suddenly, you are back at Fort Salem, about to graduate, young and unaware of the harsh reality that was to become the three of you. You’ve had your hardships and tragedy of whether or not you were going to make it out alive. 

_You didn’t at one point_. 

But here you are, still standing strong and tall, all three of you. _Bonded as sisters_.

“Do you wanna hold her?” You voice to the both of them. 

“Hell yeah, bring her over here.” Abigail chuckles wetly as she opens her arms to accompany Ana in them. 

-

When Abigail and Tally with a promise of being back early the next day, Scylla wakes up, immediately looks for her daughter, to which you bring Ana over to her, carefully. 

You place Ana in her arms and watch in awe as Scylla looks down at your daughter with more emotion on her face than you have ever seen. They both look so _beautiful_ and your heart is _so complete_. 

The door opens and Anacostia steps inside, out of breath and flustered more than you have ever seen her. 

“I came as soon as I heard.” 

“Did you run here?” Anacostia shoots a firm stare your way, which makes you snap your mouth shut. 

You watch as she walks closer to Scylla, a look of wonder placed upon her face. Anacostia looks to Scylla then to Ana again, the emotion of love on her face almost knocks you to the ground. 

It looks so _motherly_. 

“What’s her name?” She asks dumbstruck. 

You and Scylla share a look before looking back up at her. 

“Ana.” 

It takes a minute before more tears fall down Anacostia’s cheeks as well as Scylla’s. You can feel the warm wetness sliding down your cheeks too. 

When Scylla and you were figuring out names, she had told you about the tradition that her family has done for ages. You remember laying in bed at the dead of night as she explained it to you. 

“The child, if a girl, would be named after the grandmother, if worthy enough.” 

You look to Anacostia, who is cradling Ana in her arms, rocking her back and forth with so much adoration in her eyes. 

_You can’t think of someone more worthy_. 

_**Twenty** _

The air is cold as it whips across your cheeks. You sprint frantically across the forest, dodging trees and twigs, only looking behind you to see if the man is still following you.

He is. _Fuck_. 

You get an idea and grab a nearby tree trunk to swing your body right and around the trunk. You collide into the man and you both go down to the ground. The buzzing in your ears unbearable as you try to grab the box on his neck, but he pins you down, punch after punch thrown at you.

The pain so intolerable to the point of passing out, you think this is how you die. 

_By playing the fucking hero._

It finally stops and the man shoots off of you into a nearby tree, you sigh in relief and look up to see cold blue eyes staring right back at you. 

“What the hell were you thinking, girl?!” 

_Well fuck_. 

\- 

Your eye and leg are throbbing as you make it back to camp, the trip back was silent. Both you and Willa haven’t spoken a word, just grunts from the man you guys were towing along. 

“Raelle!” You hear as you enter the camp, you look to the origin of the voice and see Tally and Abigail running towards you. 

You grunt as Tally holds you into a tight embrace. 

“We were so worried!” You pat her back and she lets go of you. Abigail pats your back, with a smile full of relief on her face. 

“Raelle!” You hear a familiar voice shout, _Scylla_. You look to see her running towards you and you open your arms so she can fall into them. You are grateful for the familiar warmth that comes with her touch. 

She pulls back to place her forehead against yours, “I didn’t know-” 

“S’okay.” You slur, just content in the embrace you share. You feel her hand go up to your eye, taking in the bruise that is evident there. 

“I’m fine.” She scoffs.

“At least let me heal you, girl.” Willa’s voice interrupts the warm embrace. You both turn to look at her, who is staring at you with an abrasive look on her face. Ever since you and Scylla had gotten back together, Willa has shown nothing but disdain towards the relationship. 

_Not that you care though_. 

“No thanks, I’m good.” Your voice is firm and closed off, you always make sure it is when you are talking to her. 

“Raelle, don’t be so stubborn. You were limping all the way back here.” Willa’s tone takes you back to when you were just a kid and didn’t eat all your vegetables. The way she scolded you is familiar to back then. The only thing that is different is you don’t know this woman standing in front of you. 

Willa turns and goes to the medic tent, probably expecting you to follow her. You turn back to Scylla, who is still staring at the retreating form of Willa. 

“Should I go?” Scylla shrugs. 

“You don’t wanna hear my opinion.” You roll your eyes. 

“I always wanna hear your opinion.” She blushes and looks away from you, taking your good hand in hers. 

“I think that you should-” She is cut off by your sigh and you turn to look at the ground. 

Scylla squeezes your hand once before trying to meet your eyes, “Just at least to get some closure.” 

You stand there for a moment. Could you really patch things up with your mom? Is that something you really wanna do? A path you wanna go down? 

You did it with Scylla, but it took two years of long talks and fights. It took being with other people and restless nights to figure out that Scylla was the only one who truly _got_ you the way no one else did. But, this is different, Willa isn’t Scylla, she doesn’t seem sorry for her actions. She isn’t trying to seek your forgiveness through kind actions and words, she isn’t crying at you that what she did was a mistake and she was wrong. 

She was just _there_. With her mask up all the time, never dropping it. 

But still, the girl looking at the sunset says your mama is _here_ and she came _back_ . _She came back_. Who cares if she left, she came back, didn’t she?

You look to Scylla and nod, giving her a chaste kiss before following in Willa’s path towards the tent. 

When you get in there, Willa is already setting up, laying out a cot for you to sit on. 

“So, you changed your mind?” The condescending tone makes you scoff. 

“Whatever. Let’s just get this over with.” You go and sit down on the cot, facing her with a frigid scowl on your face. 

Willa shuffles closer to you, placing one hand on your pulsating leg and the other on your contused eye. Her hands are so icy that a shiver goes up your spine, it is far from the comforting touch that you once knew from her. 

She takes a deep breath and then speaks her voice disoreitied, “ _And my God will meet all your needs according to the riches of his glory in Christ Jesus._ ” 

_There is a woman who looks like your mother standing in a room, it’s blank, no photos, no pictures. Just a mirror and brick walls. She holds a lighter to her face and it lights into a woman with cold features and long red hair covers her face._

_It flashes forward to a stadium, you hear the roaring of the crowd, a baseball game. You see the red haired woman, she is looking at the baseball that the pitcher is throwing. She is chanting something under her breath._

_A pause, the ball is thrown and then it pops in mid-air._

_A silence, before everyone in the stadium gets up and starts walking to up to the nosebleed section._

_You watch in horror as everyone, civilians, starts jumping off. One by one, no screaming, no shouting, just going willingly._

_You can sense a grim satisfaction in your mother that makes you sick._

You break the link, unable to see anymore, you look back to Willa in horror. You both are speechless, just staring at each other. You can’t stand to look at her anymore, you stand up and cross the room. 

“Is that why you left us? Mass murder?” 

Willa stands up too, her eye becoming more and more bruised as she gets closer to you. The scent of wildflowers filling the tent, it feels like you are covered in a million of those _fucking_ flowers. 

“You know that that’s is not why-” 

“Then why? Dad’s a civilian, you know, in case you forgot.” Willa’s mask finally breaks when you mention your father, you _finally_ got her to break. 

You just feel rage at that, you want her to feel as much as you do, so you press, “I am half-civilian! It is like you are killing us! How could you-” 

“Raelle!” Willa slams her hand down on a nearby table, the sound echoing across the tent. 

“That is enough, girl.” Willa brings her voice to a normal tone, but you can hear the unreleased anger behind it. 

“I did what I could for the cause and I will not regret what I have done, no matter what the cause.” 

You can’t breathe, it feels like you are drowning in Willa’s words. Your heart is getting torn up by the waves of the harsh reality that this is not your mama in front of you. You don’t know who this is, your mother didn’t come back. She died on that beach. This _woman_ in front of you isn’t her. This is a cold and callous woman that you feel nothing but _contempt_ for. 

“Then we have _nothing_ to talk about.” You cross over to her, now both of you inches away from each other. The scent of wildflowers is more powerful than ever. 

“As far as I am concerned, you died on that beach. I don’t have a _mother_.” 

You walk out that tent, your heart aching, but you don’t look back. 

**_Twenty Eight_ **

Ana is eight months now and she just started crawling everywhere. She is unstoppable and she is fascinated by everything. 

Like every time you open the newspaper to read the comic section, Ana reaches over from her high chair and tries to bap at the paper. Her eyes have just gotten brighter everyday as her hair darkens too. She reminds you of Scylla everyday. 

It is weird watching Ana and Scylla together. You come down the stairs each morning to Scylla fixing breakfast, holding Ana, bouncing her as they move around the kitchen. It’s like a _dream_ , you’ve always wanted this. 

When Scylla goes to work at the University, it’s just you and Ana for a couple of hours before you have to report back to base. You give her to Anacostia, who retired a couple of months ago, and she stays with her during the day. 

You pick her up on your way home, Ana giggling and babbling the whole way home. That’s where you are now, on your way home. You look at her through the rearview window, smiling when she meets your eyes and giggles. 

You pull into the driveway, noticing two cars instead of the usual one. You shake it off, probably Scylla’s professor friends coming by for dinner. You take Ana out of her carseat. 

“Come on, sweetie. Let’s go see what mommy is up too.” Your voice is naturally high when you talk to your daughter. Scylla always makes fun of you for it. 

“You know she can still understand what you are saying if you just talk in a normal tone, Raelle.” Mirth always visible in her tone. 

You walk from your car to the house, bouncing Ana as you go to open the door, laughing with her as she tries to grab the keys from your hand. You open the door to the familiar scent of your home, baby powder mixed with the lavender candles that Scylla likes. 

“Hey, babe.” You call out into the empty living room, which is weird, Scylla usually greets you with a kiss and arms already open to pull Ana into. 

“Raelle, can you come in here a moment.” Scylla says from the kitchen, her voice seeming tense, making you on high alert as well. You walk to the kitchen and upon entering you see her. 

_Willa_. 

-

It’s like you’re eighteen again, just finding out that she’s alive. Looking down at the tea on the table before you. 

_Thank god it isn’t lavender_. 

You sent Scylla out with Ana, you can see them in the backyard, looking up at the stars. It’s a tradition that you two started a little while after Ana was born. 

Willa clears her throat, you look up at her, fiddling with your wedding ring as you do so. 

You haven’t spoken to her since the mission, which was almost two years ago. You didn’t even tell her about the birth of your daughter, you assume she found out from your dad. Or around Fort Salem, the community wasn't exactly quiet when they found out the Ramshorn-Collar matrilineal would be continuing with the birth of a baby girl. 

“What’s her name?” Willa’s voice is soft, it takes you back to when you were a child and she sang you a lullaby to comfort after a nightmare. 

“Ana Hera.” Willa chuckles, the sound foreign to your ears. 

“Scylla was always a bit of a mythology buff.” 

You tittered, “She got it from her father. I like the name.” 

“As do I, it suits her.” You watch as Willa looks out the window at Ana and Scylla, a look that you cannot read is on her face. 

“She seems softer.” Willa whispers, you know she’s talking about Scylla. 

You furrow your brows, “What do you mean?” 

Willa takes a minute to reply, licking her lips, “When we were in the cell together, Scylla was the only one of the agents I could never get a firm read on. Always closed off, never giving a clue to what she was feeling.” 

She takes a breath, taking a sip of her tea, “Now, I-she just seems easier to read.” 

You hum as you look back out to your wife and daughter. Your _family_. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Your heart drops to the ground. You haven’t heard those words since you first saw Willa again when you were eighteen and they didn’t have an ounce of emotion behind them, not like they do now. 

“I realize I did hurt you and dad. I can’t take that back or change it, but I do regret it. I’ve been talking to dad the past couple of months, going to dinner and stuff. And _I_ -” Her voice cracks, tears now streaming openly down her face. You’re too in shock to stop her from saying anymore. 

“I miss the birth of my own _granddaughter_ because I was too blind and stubborn in my own anger.” 

She looks up at you. She looks like your _mom_ from all those years ago, she looks like the woman with eyes as bright as the sunset, who cares if they are a little dimmed. 

“All I am saying is I know I can’t earn your forgiveness with everything I have done to you. But I would like to _try_.” 

You look outside again, Ana and Scylla still watching the stars, you look back to Willa. 

A moment. 

You place your hand over hers. They aren’t cold like they once were, a chill doesn’t race up your spine. Just a moment between a mother and daughter, trying to find their way back to each other. 

“Would you like to go watch the stars with your granddaughter?” 

Willa nods. 

Her eyes are as bright as stars.

**Author's Note:**

> i used a witch translator on this because we do not have the full mothertongue language yet so just bare with me. 
> 
> sialilitura - water 
> 
> tuvoekoi - evil
> 
> emalicesotu - dance 
> 
> raaliekce - rain
> 
> oitualiemtura - rain
> 
> piekemtu - side
> 
> as always come yell at me on tumblr @yourjovialcollectionflower and twitter @steviebobeebee


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